


She's His Friend.

by ReginaDiCuoriForti



Category: SOMA (Video Game)
Genre: Heartbreaking, I didn't finish the game, Sad, This is where they leave other simon, somewhat suicide, suggested character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:04:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaDiCuoriForti/pseuds/ReginaDiCuoriForti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon wakes up three days later, alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's His Friend.

**Author's Note:**

> This is right after they copy Simon's brain again. I'm watching the Markiplier gameplay of it so he decided to let Simon live. This is when he wakes up.

Simon wakes up three days later to roaring. His head snaps up and he struggles out of the chair, the wailing woman banging on the door. He can see the hinges bulge and his heart (Is it his heart anymore? No, it’s that doctor’s) pounds in his ears. He’s got maybe seconds.

There’s a crushing confusion in his head as he looks over the console, desperate and frantic to grab Catherine and maybe make a run for it but she’s not there. _She’s not there._

He doesn’t want to think about it but the answer is obvious. He ducks behind some infrastructure and remains totally and completely still.

It’s obvious.

She _lied_ to him.

The wailing woman finally breaks the door of the hinges and stalks in on grotesquely mangled legs. Simon closes his eyes or his monitors or whatever and is taken by the rush of his heartbeat. By the frantic heaving of his chest.

It was Toronto all over again. She didn’t transfer his mind over. No. She _scanned_ it she fucking _copied it_ and then left with the new fucking Simon, like he didn’t fucking matter. And he’d be angry, he’d be so fucking pissed if he wasn’t terrified right now. Because he's  _ **all alone**_ \---

\----and the wailing woman is looking right at him.

He runs, bolts from the room and the woman screeches a hunting cry and barrels after him.

He doesn’t have the omni-tool. He doesn’t have Catherine. He can’t leave.

And he is utterly alone.

**Again.**

* * *

He estimates it’s five days later, when they call. His suit has rips in it from where the wailing woman had grabbed him. But he doesn’t have skin and he can’t leave so he doesn’t worry too much on it. He’s living(can he even call it that?) on the edge and she is _still_ hunting him.

For some reason he always wanders back to this room, right here, where it all happened. Maybe he’s waiting for a sign or maybe he’s in the throes of some sort of depression but he _doesn’t care._ Doesn’t care about anything anymore.

_He doesn’t care._

_He **doesn’t.**_

Until he does.

The call is loud and he scrambles frantically for it because he doesn’t want to attract **her**. He’s swearing when he picks up, wondering in his half-crazed mind _who the fuck could it be?_ and watching the open door avidly. She heard it, he knows she did.

“Simon?” he hears his own voice ask hesitantly, “Are you there? We need your help,”

He can’t breath. He can’t. He knows it’s not a necessity anymore but it sure fucking feels like it. They’re calling him, they’re asking him for his _help?_

“What?” he breaths out, he’s positively breathless.

“Simon!” he hears Catherine’s voice call, “Simon, we need you to access the control panels and-”

_“Excuse me?”_

He can’t fucking believe this. He really just fucking can’t.

“You---You want me to _help_ you?” his disbelief is evident, “After you _abandoned_ me? You want me to do, what? Risk my life for two betraying _copies_?”

He can feel his copy wince but not really. More like he knows he would if it were him and he’s projecting that response. For all he knows Other-Simon didn’t, because he’s a cold unfeeling bastard.

“It wasn’t like that,” Other-Simon says, his voice strong, “We-”

“You what?” he interrupts, “Figured I was _just_ a copy? Who gives a fuck about a copy, right? Just leave the poor bastard, alone, trapped, and being fucking hunted. That’s okay, right?”

“Simon,” Catherine pleads, “We wanted to let you choose. Choose whether to live or not, okay? S-Simon said he didn’t want to take that choice away from you.”

“There is no choice!” he roars, “Either I get unplugged or I get _plugged in_ to the WAU and keep wandering around here _awake_ for the rest of my miserable fucking existence! There is no fucking choice,” he wishes he could cry. Maybe, that’d make this easier.

“There is no fucking choice,” he repeats.

“Please,” Catherine begs, because that’s all she can say. There’s nothing they can do to make this better, make this _right_. "You _lied_ to me, Catherine." his voice is thick, "You lied,"

Simon breathes in. He can’t take this. He really can’t. He’s already losing his goddamn mind and now this? He’s weak. He just wants to curl up and let this all wash away.

But they need him.

He hates this. He hates them, for what they've done to him. For leaving him so utterly alone while they go galvanizing off with the rest of humanity. He hates how broken they’ve made him.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, “I hate this. I hate you.”

The silence is telling. Other-Simon’s breath has hitched and Catherine is sobbing in the background.

He doesn’t want to, but she’s his friend. He has to---

The wailing woman roars in the background, feet pounding for him. (He doesn't know if he's going to escape this time. If he wants to.)

He lets out a shaky breath and smiles.(He doesn't think he does.)

“What do you need, Cath?” He has to---

**\---Because she’s his friend.**


End file.
